“No one is at the schoolhouse. I had Powell check,” Sheriff Hinkle said. He sat on the edge of his desk and pursed his lips. “That is a good idea about the other. I seem to recollect she is at the boardinghouse over on Third. Head on over there and talk to the landlady. Have her let you into the schoolmarm’s room and see if Miss Frost has taken any of her personal effects.”
So much for a quiet, relaxing night, Seamus reflected. “I will come straight back this time.”
“You better.”
Seamus was as certain as he could be that things were not as Hinkle thought they were. The schoolmarm had not been abducted. She was with Frost because she wanted to be. But Seamus was not about to try and convince George Hinkle or anyone else. They would laugh him to scorn. Worse, Hinkle might accuse him of making it up to try and get out of leading the posse.
Seamus bent brisk steps toward the boardinghouse. It was a frame dwelling, larger than most, with extra rooms at the back for boarders. He had been there once before. The windows were dark save for one at the rear. He drifted around to the alley that bordered it and was almost to a gate in a picket fence when a large shape moved out of the shadows and stared at him with its ears pricked.
Seamus stifled an oath. It was the gruella! Beyond it were two other horses, one with a saddle, the other laden with packs.
Suddenly the lit window took on new significance. Drawing his Merwin and Hulbert revolver, Seamus opened the gate. He winced when a hinge creaked. Leaving the gate open, he crept to the back door. It was ajar. He quietly opened it and sidled along the wall to the first door on the right. It, too, was ajar. He heard rustling and a female voice.
Seamus smiled. He was about to impress the hell out of Sheriff Hinkle by rescuing the schoolmarm and taking Jeeter Frost into custody. He carefully placed his other hand on the door and slowly pushed. Luck was with him. The door did not creak.
Ernestine Prescott was taking folded clothes out of a dresser and placing them on the bed next to an open carpetbag. She was humming to herself.
Seamus took a couple of steps and leveled his revolver. It might scare her, but it served her right for all the bother she was putting people to. “Going somewhere, lady?”
Whirling, Ernestine put a hand to her throat. “Oh my! You quite startled me!”
“You have startled quite a few folks, yourself,” Seamus informed her. “I am taking you to the sheriff.”
“No, you are not,” declared a harsh voice, and a hard object was gouged into his lower back. “Toss your hardware on the bed, law dog, or I will blow you in half.”
Seamus’s skin prickled. He had blundered by not looking behind the door when he entered. “I am not here to hurt anyone,” he said.
“Then you shouldn’t sneak into rooms with your pistol out. Now do as I said with your six-shooter. I am not a patient man.”
“Jeeter Frost, I presume?” Seamus said as he flipped his revolver onto the quilt.
“My, don’t you talk nice?” Jeeter Frost came around to one side, the Colt Lightning rock steady in his hands, his eyes glittering like those of a wolverine about to pounce. “You would be Glickman.”
“You know me?”
“I know of you. I make it a point to ask about the local law when I mosey into a town. Fancy pants, was how you were described to me, and it fits. You are almost as pretty as my new wife.”
Ernestine came and stood next to Jeeter. “That will be enough of that. You are married now. You must be civil.”
“Hell,” Jeeter Frost said, but he smiled as he said it.
Seamus looked from one to the other. “I was right. You weren’t forced to take a vow against your will.”
“Excuse me?” Ernestine said.
Briefly, keenly aware every moment of the muzzle pointed at his chest, and the fact that the man pointing it had killed more men than he had fingers and toes, Seamus explained about the justice of the peace, and the posse being assembled. “Once word spreads, the whole town will be out for your husband’s hide, lady.”
“I don’t know as I like that,” Jeeter Frost said.
“Like what?” Seamus said. “That everyone wants you dead for stealing the schoolmarm?”
“I don’t know as I like how you call her lady. It doesn’t sound respectful enough. Call her ma’am. Or Mrs. Frost. One more lady and I will shoot you.”
Ernestine smiled. “I like how you stand up for me,” she said, and pecked Frost on the cheek.
To Seamus’s amazement, the most feared pistolero in the territory blushed. “I wish I was drunk,” he said.
“Why?” Jeeter Frost asked.
“So I could laugh without being shot.”
“You might be shot anyway, laugh or no laugh.” Jeeter gnawed on his lower lip, then declared, “We have us a predicament here, Ernestine. We can’t let this hombre go or he’ll run to the sheriff and tell where we are.”
“The solution is simple,” Ernestine said. “We fix it so he can’t run to Sheriff Hinkle.”
“It is nice we think alike,” Jeeter said. “Do you have a sharp knife I can borrow? I should do it quietlike. A shot would wake the other boarders.”
“We don’t need to kill him, dearest.”
“We don’t?”
